Not just a Watch
by FionaTailynn
Summary: It takes him a long time, but suddenly he knows. Suddenly Sherlock knows what is unusual about the pocket watch that has seemingly always been with him. And then he finds out he isn't Sherlock at all.


Suddenly it hit him like a lightning.

Sherlock always concentrated on finding the unusual in objects, places and people. But for some reason he couldn't find it in the old pocket watch that he had since he could remember. Things always seemed to get in between, until now. He had never felt any need to find out.! It hadnever seemed important; every time he'd look at it, something else would suddenly come up, and he'd quickly let it slip back into his pocket and forget about it.

Sherlock slowly pulled it out and let his fingers trace the odd symbols on it. He stared down at it, trying to figure out the mystery behind this watch that had always been with him, even though he didn't know why even had it. It was clearly broken; there was no ticking, no reason for him to still own it. In fact, had ever even ticked? There was still something he was missing out about it. Then he realized something else.

Sherlock had never opened it; he didn't even know if it was a real watch or just some toy.

"Open it! Open it now!" He heard a voice say.

Sherlock looked up. No one was there. He was alone in the flat, sitting on his armchair. He tightly clenched the watch with both his hand and held it right up to his face. More voices came up and some other noise. He closed his eyes trying to concentrate on one but it was too many to understand more then:

"Open now... Doctor... TARDIS... Time... Earth..." Sherlock's eyebrows knitted together. He couldn't make any sense of this. But someone seemed to want him to open it, and as his head began to hurt whilst he kept listening to the voices he did so.

The watch opened and a golden light blinded him. Memories came pouring in, the words he'd heard before made sense. His eyes widened and the light stopped, showing just an ordinary clock face. He closed the watch and stared into space. He understood now. All he thought was important wasn't. He only had one more purpose: Find the drums.

The human he had invented was fading away, very little left of him. What was his name again? Oh Sherlock, right. The Master couldn't even remember much of being him, probably because he didn't care at all. He stood up and was just about to look around this place that had been his home for several years, but now meant nothing to him, when the door opened.

A familiar blonde man stepped inside, smiling at him.

"What are you doing? Do you have a new case?" he asked. The Master didn't answer. He stared down at him; trying to remember which role he played in Sherlock's life. Well Sherlock didn't really have a life. Sherlock didn't exist. Oh that's right. They were flat mates. He seemed to be the only person Sherlock had grown very keen about.

Hmm. It seemed that the person he had acted like wasn't quite keeping a low profile based on his memories. But that wasn't a problem since he didn't seem to have attracted the Doctor.

"Sherlock?" the man, he was pretty sure John was his name, said. The Master smiled at him.

"He's gone." He laughed.

John looked at him with a confused face. "What do you mean? I can clearly see you, Sherlock."

"You will _not_ address me by that name. I am your Master." The more he was called that way, the more he was starting to despise that name. As if this person could have done greater things than he'd done. He chuckled at the idea.

"Sherlock, you're starting to scare me." John said stepping back from him.

"I said I am your Master!" he yelled at him with fury.

"What is going on?" John asked, looking very worried.

"Your 'friend' is dead." The Master hissed at him.

"Okay, I think you need some time on your own." John said through gritted teeth and turned back around.

He quickly walked down the stairs and opened the door. The freezing London wind stung his face as he closed his coat. Although the wind was loud he still could make out an unfamiliar wheezing sound. He turned around and caught a glimpse of a blue police box and a man with a bow tie stepping out, running towards him. "John!"

"But I don't understand..." John said while stirring his cup of coffee. He had been for a long time. He didn't want to look up at the man opposite to him, didn't want to believe him.

"The Master and I we're... We're Time Lords, from a planet named Gallifrey." John made a sarcastic laugh but still kept on listening in case this was true.

"But that planet is long gone now and we're the only two left..." The Doctor paused at the painful memory.

"Can you get to the point please?" John asked annoyed and afraid that this person was just wasting his time and Sherlock had just had some kind of fit or something. Although honestly, that would be better that way.

"Yes, well..." he pulled out a small pocket watch identical to one John was sure he'd already seen Sherlock hold in his hands. "A Time Lord obviously has a different genetic code than humans. But with the help of this I can turn myself human and keep my Time Lord self preserved in it for an unlimited amount of time." John smashed the spoon down on the table making the other people in the café look up and him slightly blush.

"Are you trying to tell me that Sherlock lied to me all this time and really is some kind of alien?" He screamed looking up at the man sitting on the other side of the table. The Doctor remained calm and put his hand on John's. "No. He didn't lie, or at least he didn't know he was. Because for a Time Lord to be completely untraceable he needs to forget himself. He did truly believe that he was Sherlock Holmes."

John pursed his lips and pulled his hand away. "This is sick. Completely sick." He got up and put some change on the table, and was about to leave, when the Doctor caught hold of his arm looking up to him. "If you don't believe me, take this." he said and handed him a stethoscope.

"How would that prove anything?" he said grimacing while he tried to pull himself free from the madman. "You're a doctor, right? Just use it on him. I'll be waiting here." He said still holding out the stethoscope to him. John gave him a grim look, hesitated and finally took it, turned around and stomped out the café. The Doctor closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "I'm so sorry, John." But John didn't couldn't hear him anymore.

He opened the door to the flat and found Sherlock typing something on the computer with an odd smile on his face. But he couldn't say he'd ever understood his friend's facial expression so he took a deep breath. _See. Everything's fine. No, "Time Lord", just Sherlock, _he said to himself. He bit his lip, tightly gripping the stethoscope in his hands. The longer he stood here the more doubt he got. John finally walked over to him, Sherlock looking up to him.

"Ah, you've come back, still searching for your dead friend?" he asked smirking at him.

_Why Sherlock? Why would you do this?_ John walked over closer to him, putting the stethoscope around his neck.

"Oh poor thing. You still don't believe it do you?" he teased, "Well then, better get this over with." He stood up and unbuttoned his coat.

John slowly placed the stethoscope on the left side of his chest.

_Pump, pump... Pump, pump._

For now, everything was still normal. He cautiously pulled the end of the measuring device over to his right side. He swallowed at the second beating.

_Pump, pump... pump, pump._

Sherlock or the Master or whoever he was smiled down at him. "As I said before, Sherlock Holmes is dead."

John swallowed looking up to him; a tear ran down his face. "Sherlock, I..."

"Sherlock is _gone_!" he growled at him. John breathed heavily as he looked up to who he thought was his friend, desperately searching for some recognition in the other man's eyes. _Snap out of it! Just snap out!_ He turned around and ran out the door, trying to wipe his tears away but they just kept coming. Once he was outside he needed some time to think.

_Sherlock is dead. No, he can't be. He never existed. None of this was real. _The person he'd been willing to give his life to save his for, didn't actually have one; Just a ghost, a thought. After some self-pity he started feeling sorry for someone else: Sherlock. Not that maniac that was running around his flat at the moment of course, the man he'd lived with for god knows how long, the consulting detective who didn't know that the earth went round the sun, who shot the wall when he got bored, who took two sugars in his coffee. The most brilliant man on earth and the most important man to him, had simply gotten compressed in a tiny part of someone else's mind, all alone.

Then he remembered the man from before. He took a deep breath and quickly walked to the café. The Doctor hadn't moved.

He sat down back next to him his hands still shaking. The Doctor placed his hand back on John's, but this time he didn't pull his away.

"I'm sorry for your loss, John." He said softly.

"One can't lose what he never had." he murmured.

"You did have him. And he's not really dead either." John glanced back up to him.

"Then bring him back."

The Doctor sighed, "Look... I know the Master isn't very nice but... don't you think he has the right to live?"

"And Sherlock doesn't?"

"Well, he's not a person, just an invention and-" "Doctor!" John interrupted, "Whether he was real or not, he was my friend, and I need him, the world needs him! And if he's alive, I'll do anything to get him back."

The Doctor frowned. There wasn't a way out of this. Anything they could do would result in the death of someone. He didn't especially like the Master, quite the opposite, and he knew how dear Sherlock was to John, but this was the only other Time Lord in existence, he couldn't just kill him. Both options they had resulted in one broken hearted Doctor.

_Perfect,_ the Master thought. He could easily take over this planet. He'd done it before already. He leaned over the desk staring at the laptop and typing in code after codes slowly hacking in the entire military systems of the British government. He smiled at his good work.

"But how can he have a brother, and any one who remembers him then?" John had been trying to come up with reasons that could make this whole thing just be some mistake. He might've just imagined that second heart beat.

"It's a strong perception filter, tricking everyone's memory into believing he existed. Has he ever talked about his past?"

"He rarely did, and if he did, it was brief and undetailed."

"Probably because he wasn't quite sure himself."

"But what are we going to do now Doctor? You can't seriously tell me your putting this Master man in front of him."

"I can't kill another one... I've caused all their deaths, and now I have to cause the only one I spared too?"

John didn't answer. There was a long pause. They both stared down to the floor.

"Please," John said finally looking up " Do it for him. Not for me. I know he still somewhere inside there, you have to save him before he's lost forever."

The Doctor glanced up to him. He wasn't going to do it, he'd made up his mind, but he would come along with John. John got up and pulled the Doctor up. They quickly got out of the café and walked down the street. The flat wasn't far; it would only be a 5-minute walk. John stopped as they reached Baker Street. There was a car parked in front of 221B. The Doctor and John exchanged a look and quickly ran up the steps. John opened the door and got through instantly stopping once he saw who was there. Two men were now standing in the flat: The Master, and James Moriarty.

"Oh, so you've come to join us too?" Moriarty asked while smiling at the two men in the doorway.

"What are you doing here?" John growled at him.

"Well I was planning to take the day off when one of my men told me a computer was hacking all the systems of the world at same time, and managing pretty well. They tracked it all the way here, to our favorite consultant. Did you get a bit too bored Sherlock?"

" I am not Sherlock. I am the Master. And I also believe that I am on your side." The Master said taking one step closer to him.

"Oh? Have I finally got to you, or have you finally cracked?"

"No, I've discovered my true self. Who I really am."

"Yup, definitely cracked. Boring."

"What are you talking about exactly?" The Master asked.

"You, silly." Moriarty walked over to the door, pushed the Doctor and John aside "Good luck with him." he whispered to John and went through the open door. "Well I seem to have no more use of you so I may as well." He shouted through the hallway. And then there was a gunshot.

The Doctor ran over to the Master and caught him, carefully laying him down on the ground, while John ran to the window to see what Jim was doing. He could see him get in the car and drive away. He then turned around to face the Doctor and kneeled down next to the bleeding bloody. It was a gunshot in the stomach.

"No, don't die. I know you're still in there Sherlock! You can't die! Please!" He screamed at the barely conscious body that was just lying on the ground. The Doctor stood over the two of them and examined him with his sonic screwdriver. "You can't save him, this was his last regeneration." he coughed a little "I'm sorry."

The Master lost consciousness and his eyes closed. Now it made no difference whether it was the Master or Sherlock, John thought. He lay down next to him and held on to it tightly.

He then quickly let go; noticing the four heart beats, reminding him this wasn't his friend. This was someone who gave him something to live for and then took it away from him. He knelt down beside the body and watched as the blood stained the white shirt he was wearing. Then suddenly he noticed something. There was something silver in the man's hands. He quickly reached for it. He was holding a pocket watch, the same one that the Doctor had showed him before.

The Doctor caught a glimpse of it, his face suddenly beaming. "We can't save the Master anymore but I will not let Sherlock die." He said quickly running to the door and then turned around. "John. Slow the bleeding down and buy me as much time as possible." He said then running out the door and down to the street. John got up and quickly got his first aid kit starting to bandage the wound and adding pressure. He held on to the tiny bit of hope that Sherlock would be survive and kept working until the Doctor showed up with some head-device-thingy.

"What are you going to do?" he asked stepping back from the body to give the Doctor some space.

"The reason why we can't save him was because we couldn't bring him to a hospital. They'd dissect him, the two hearts and all, but we can turn him back human and get him there."

"And then what? You pocket him away again the moment he gets better?" John yelled at him with anger.

"No. He's too dangerous for that. I'm keeping the watch, and see what use I can make of it later. If Sherlock doesn't have the watch, he won't be able to open it. He'll be safe."

The Doctor attached the device to the body's head and put the watch in place. He then pressed a switch, and even though the body was unconscious, he still screamed in pain. John turned around so he wouldn't have to see the person on the ground make grimaces. "Call an ambulance! There isn't much time." The Doctor ordered. John got his phone out "Yes, hello. We have a severely wounded man at 221B Baker Street... It's a bullet wound... thank you." The screams finally stopped and John turned around. Sherlock, he hoped it was Sherlock again, was lying on the ground heavily breathing but still wasn't conscious. "Is he... You know, is it the same Sherlock?" The Doctor smiled at him, and John heard sirens in the distance. "He's going to make it."

Sherlock's eyes slowly opened. He seemed to be in a hospital room. He tried to sit up but felt a pain in his stomach. Sherlock closed his eyes letting out a small wince and then opened them again. John was sitting in a chair next to the bed he was in.

"What... What happened?" John suddenly looked up at him, smiled for no visible reason and then said, "Sherlock... Oh, you... you got shot and lost consciousness, you probably wouldn't remember." Sherlock was a bit sunned by the fact that he got shot "How did I get shot?" John bit his lip, as if he didn't know how to answer.

"Well... I don't know myself. You were found in some abandoned factory, off on some case. But no worries, they caught the snipers." For some reason (John presumed that it was that perception filter or whatever the Doctor called it) Sherlock didn't question that any longer but simply nodded. John's smile became bigger and bigger, almost that it worried Sherlock a little.

"Sherlock."

"Yes?"

"It's good to have you back." Sherlock smiled back and let his eyes close again. The moment he drifted off John got up and walked over to the window. He pulled the curtains to the side and looked down at the small garden of the hospital. There was a blue police box standing in the middle of it and a man with a bowtie waving at him. He quickly got his coat and ran downstairs.

"Doctor! Doctor!" he said finally outside.

The Doctor leaned on the TARDIS and smiled at him.

"What do I do if he questions his past... or I accidentally let something slip out."

"Oh I'm sure you'll figure something out."

"But... he isn't actually real..."

"Is he real for you?"

"Yes but-"

"Then he is real." The Doctor said opening the door to the TARDIS.

"Doctor, will I ever see you again?"

"Maybe."

"Thank you. For everything." The Doctor smiled at him and got inside the TARDIS. That wheezing sound came again, and John could feel wind blowing against his face as the police box slowly disappeared.

The door to the hospital room closed and Sherlock's eyes opened again. "Where were you?"

"I just needed to say thanks to some one."

"To who?"

"Your savior."

"And who might that be."

"I didn't quite catch on his name. But he's a doctor. And you owe him your life." _Because it wasn't yours before, it belonged to somebody else. But now it's your life. And no one else's, _he quietly added and smiled.


End file.
